


give until you bleed (out)

by somehowunbroken



Category: DCU
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-11
Updated: 2012-05-31
Packaged: 2017-11-05 04:07:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/402267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somehowunbroken/pseuds/somehowunbroken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Tim wakes up in the Cave. He’s in the med bay, which isn’t surprising; all of the monitoring machines are off, which is. He shrugs and sits up carefully, wincing preemptively for the pull of stitches that doesn’t come.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Major character death.** Also, I am not actually writing this, ack. It just really looks like I am. I'm totally not, though, and this is not a 'verse. /o\

Tim turns, flips, bounces off the wall, and kicks out, managing to catch the guy under the chin. He drops with a groan, and Tim grins down at him and mimes dusting off his shoulders.

“That’s why you shouldn’t-” is all he gets out before there’s a white-hot pain driving through him. He pulls in a breath, then another, and chokes on what he dimly realizes is probably his own blood. _Punctured lung_ , his brain tells him. _You’re bleeding into your chest cavity_.

“Asshole kid,” someone – presumably the guy who had just stabbed him – sneers. “You fuck with the Hanoi Ten, they fuck right back with you.”

Tim watches, trying to pull in even breaths and failing more and more with each attempt, as the guy grabs his friend and stumble-walks out of the alley. There’s protocol for this, he knows, something that he’s supposed to be doing, but it doesn’t click in his head until he sees a shadow dropping from the roof above him. It takes a little longer than it should to materialize into the blue and black of Nightwing’s uniform, and it’s not until Dick is dropping down beside him that Tim realizes that he should have called Dick as soon as he’d been hurt.

“Dick,” Tim says, tries to say, chokes instead. He can feel the bubble in his mouth burst, and the warm trickle running down his lips is almost certainly blood. Dick is speaking frantically, mouth moving too quickly to read, and Tim can’t parse the sounds of it. He concentrates on moving his hand, grabbing for Dick’s fingers, squeezing with all his might. “Dick.”

“Tim,” Dick mouths helplessly. Tim feels his lips twitch toward a smile as Dick pulls him in carefully, and then everything fades to black.

-0-

Tim wakes up in the Cave. He’s in the med bay, which isn’t surprising; all of the monitoring machines are off, which is. He shrugs and sits up carefully, wincing preemptively for the pull of stitches that doesn’t come.

He stops moving and glances down. He’s in street clothes, which is strange but not entirely unprecedented. He pulls at the tee, peering down at his chest, where there’s a thick red line just below his heart.

Tim frowns. It looks healed, if not faded; given the placement, he should have a broken rib or two along with the residual pain from the injury itself. The fact that he doesn’t is… confusing. Maybe Alfred has had the chance to concoct a more efficient painkiller?

Tim shrugs it off and stands slowly. There’s no lightheadedness, no pain, not much of anything, really. He takes a deep breath when he’s upright, expecting the pain in his chest again but not really surprised when he doesn’t feel it. Whatever Alfred had given him, Tim thinks, should probably be bottled and sold. It’s pretty good stuff.

It’s a little weird that Alfred isn’t down here, actually; come to think of it, it’s weird that there doesn’t seem to be anybody in the Cave at all. Bruce’s general policy for everything is _err on the side of caution_ , so when someone is down for the count, there’s usually another person hovering nearby until everything is okay again. Tim frowns. If there’s nobody in the Cave with him, something big must be going on.

It’s a bad idea and Tim knows it, but before he can really think about it, he’s in his Robin suit and heading for the Cave’s exit. He feels fine, really, and if he’s been under for long enough that he’s healed to the point of scarring, he’s not really risking anything by going out. He’s not going to pop a stitch if there aren’t any stitches left to pop.

“Damn,” Tim swears when he lands on the rooftop overlooking Second and Main and taps at his radio. There’s no hiss and click, which means his radio had been damaged in his last fight and Bruce hasn’t sent it to Babs for repairs yet. Weird, yes, but not the important thing at the moment. Tim focuses on the mouth of the alley he’s perched near, straining to pick up the voices he can hear just past what he can see. One is unfamiliar – cowering, hiccupping around something that might be sobs – while the other is low-bodied fury echoing in metal.

Jason.

Tim swings down and folds himself into his cape, waiting near the mouth of the alley. He’s clearly here on the tail end of this conversation; the guy on the ground is babbling and crying, and it takes some time to get to that point.

“-don’t know nothing, I swear,” the guy gasps out.

“Bullshit,” Jason growls, and wow, Tim has heard him angry before, but this is something else. Tim hopes the guy does actually know whatever Jason is asking about, because Jason sounds ready to kill if he doesn’t hear what he wants to hear. “You know what, Morris? You have ten seconds to tell me who was behind it or tell me who does know something. Ten.”

“I don’t know nothing!”

“Nine. Eight.”

“What happens if you get to zero?”

“I shoot you. In the gut. Seven.”

“I swear, man, I don’t-”

“Six.” There’s a click that’s probably Jason cocking his gun. “Five.”

“Ryerson,” Morris blurts. “I wasn’t there, man, but Ryerson – he was bragging about how he put a knife through that skinny kid’s chest. Talk to Ryerson.”

“Ryerson,” Jason says thoughtfully. “You know, Morris, if I get to Ryerson and he tells me that you’re the one who was bragging like that, I’m going to kill you slowly and painfully.” It’s matter-of-fact, and the way Morris is gulping tells Tim that he knows that Jason means every word. “I’m going to count to ten again, and if I can still see you when I’m done, I’ll shoot you anyway.”

Morris tears blindly out of the alley and races down the street before Jason gets to five. Tim waits until Jason is done counting before he slips into the alley. Jason has his hood off, held in his hands, and his head is bowed, eyes squeezed shut.

“So was that for me?” Tim asks when Jason shakes his head and opens his eyes again. Jason goes completely still for a moment before whirling around to face Tim, eyes now almost comically wide. “Skinny kid, knife in the chest, there can’t be too many of those around here, right? Not ones that would have you threatening people in alleys without the cover of night, anyway. I always knew you cared, at least a little.”

“Oh my fucking God,” Jason says clearly. “What – Jesus Christ.”

Tim frowns. “Was I not supposed to overhear that?” He cocks his head. “Again, probably would have been better if you’d waited until the middle of the night, and maybe chosen a better alley.” He glances around. “This one is on my patrol route.”

“Jesus _Christ_ ,” Jason repeats, and there’s a weird kind of wavering in his voice. “Not you, too.”

There’s something aching in his tone that Tim has never heard there before, and that worries Tim more than his words, which just don’t make sense. “Red Hood? Is something wrong?”

“Tim,” Jason says. Tim quickly opens his mouth to chastise him for using names on the street, but then Jason adds, “You’re _dead_.”


	2. Chapter 2

“So,” Jason says, “do you believe me yet?”

Tim honestly isn’t sure what to say. On the one hand, everything Jason has explained seems to be true. Nobody reacts to his presence in the slightest, which supports the theory that only Jason can see him; no matter how loudly he shouts, nobody seems to hear him. The rest of his family is walking around with dead eyes, Dick and Bruce and Steph and Alfred going through the motions but not living the way they should be.

There’s a headstone with his name on it, birth and death and a dash between. There’s a new Case next to the one that still holds Jason’s Robin uniform.

On the other hand, how can he be dead?

“I’m not sure,” Tim replies, closing his eyes. “I – I don’t want to believe you, because I really don’t want to be dead.” He grimaces. The word tastes wrong in his mouth.

Jason looks more sympathetic than anything, which is another point in favor of him actually being dead. Jason hadn’t exactly cared for Tim before.

“Come on,” Jason says, “I have another idea.”

-0-

Babs has a taser aimed at Jason’s chest before the elevator doors even open. “The hell are you doing here, Hood?”

Jason holds his hands up in front of him. “Proving a point, Oracle. I’ll be out of your hair in no time.”

Babs narrows her eyes and keeps the taser trained on Jason. “You have thirty seconds to explain yourself before I shoot you. I’ve already hit the alarm, so Nightwing won’t be far behind.”

“Babs,” Tim says, moving between Jason and the taser, “could you please put that thing down?”

Babs jerks and her eyes widen. She seems to freeze for a moment before lowering the taser to her lap and taking in a shaky breath. “Jason?”

Jason nods, and Babs’ shoulders slump.

Tim is about to open his mouth and ask what the hell is going on when Babs speaks. “Tim, I can’t see you or hear you, but I can tell you’re here.”

Tim turns to look at Jason. “What?”

“We figured it out when I was in your shoes,” Jason says. He’s still got his hands out in front of him. “I can see you because I’ve been dead, too. Babs was lucky enough to not join the club, but she came pretty damn close.”

“I can feel you,” Babs says, closing her eyes. “Nothing specific – I can’t tell what you’re feeling or where in the room you are, but I can tell you’re here.”

“How did you figure that out?” Tim asks, looking from Babs to Jason and back again. “I mean, if you didn’t have an intermediary like I do.”

Jason grins. “He wants to know how we figured it out,” he translates.

Babs snorts. “I didn’t, not really,” she says. “All I knew was that sometimes the hair on the back of my neck would stand up for no apparent reason, or I’d get the feeling I was being watched, but there wouldn’t be anything there.”

“We really only figured out what it was a few months ago,” Jason adds. “Babs found one of my hidey-holes and hacked into my computer system. Popped that freaky green mask onto my laptop screen and scared the shit out of me.”

“He made some sort of comment about how it was weird to be on the other side, to be the one who could be seen but not see,” Babs goes on. “I asked him what he meant, and it all clicked pretty fast.”

Tim nods thoughtfully. “So you can feel ghosts,” he says. There’s a moment of silence before Tim turns to Jason. “She can tell that I’m here.”

“She can tell that you’re here,” Jason confirms, and that’s when Dick swings through the window and tackles Jason to the ground.

-0-

“Here’s assuming I don’t just think you’re all crazy,” Dick says half an hour or so later, “because let me tell you, that’s sort of what I’m assuming here. You’re telling me that Tim is in the room with us, but only Jason can see him, because Jason is the only one that was dead. And Babs can sense him because she was almost killed. Is that the short version?”

Babs and Jason glance at each other. “Pretty much,” Jason confirms.

“Right,” Dick says, hopping up. “I’m calling Bruce.”

“No,” Tim says immediately. “No, don’t let him – Dick, please-”

“Down, boy,” Jason says, and Tim turns to look at him, but Jason’s eyes are focused on Dick. “Baby bird would really prefer you didn’t make that call.”

Dick narrows his eyes. “See, now I know you’re pulling my leg. Why wouldn’t Tim want me to call Bruce?”

Jason turns to Tim and raises his eyebrow.

“It’s not really rational,” Tim says, shoving his hand through his hair. “It’s just – no metahumans in Gotham, right? And I’m not really a meta, I know, but I’m not really human, either. So-”

“He’s being a dumbass, that’s why,” Jason says, narrowing his eyes. “Let me just list the things wrong with your argument, kid. One, you’re right, you’re not a meta. You’re a ghost, and I’m pretty sure even the King of Paranoia doesn’t have a protocol for that.” He raises an eyebrow as Babs snorts. “Two, let’s just say he _does_ have a ‘no ghosts in Gotham’ rule. How the hell is he going to enforce it?”

“I’d respect it,” Tim insists.

“Of course you’d respect it,” Jason snaps. “That’s part of what makes you a dumbass. Three,” he says over Tim’s protestations, “I was ectoplasm for a while there, and I was fine in Gotham.” He crosses his arms over his chest and glares.

There’s a shaky exhale from Jason’s right, and when Tim turns, Dick is gripping the back of Babs’ chair so hard that his fingers are probably white beneath his gauntlet. “Timmy?”

“Now he believes,” Tim mutters. “Excellent.”

Jason’s glare flashes into a grin. “Are you surprised?”

“Not in the slightest,” Tim says, reluctantly smiling back.

-0-

“You’ll get better at it,” Jason says, and Tim glares.

“I’ll get better at walking through walls,” Tim says to nobody. “Or, no, _flying_ through walls. Do you have any idea how insane that is?”

Jason shrugs. “Walls, floors, they’re only barriers in your head. You aren’t actually touching anything.”

Tim tries to suppress his flinch, but he knows that Jason probably sees it anyway. It’s been the hardest thing to deal with, as well as the strangest – he’ll reach out to tap Jason on the shoulder, unthinking, and his hand will go right through. He’ll try to pick up a coffee mug, and look down to see his fingers sticking out of the side. It’s more than a little disconcerting, and it’s his least favorite part of being dead.

Except for, well, _being dead_.

Jason sighs. “Think about it like the clothing thing. You just picture yourself wearing a suit, or your school clothes, or the Robin getup, and you’re wearing it, right? So think about hovering over my head, and you will.”

“That’s creepy,” Tim says flatly. “How did you even think of trying that?”

Jason just grins at him. “Come on, Casper, float for me. It’s fun.”

“Don’t call me that,” Tim snaps, and Jason’s grin widens. Tim sighs. “Fine, here I go, floating.”

And before Tim can blink, he’s – floating.

“Told you,” Jason says triumphantly, tilting his head back and smirking up at Tim. He’s about four feet off the floor, and if they weren’t in the loft that Jason is currently calling home, Tim’s head would probably be sticking through the ceiling. “Fly around a little. Think in a direction.” He pauses. “I used to pretend I had a jet pack on, when I first tried to fly. Not strictly necessary, but the visual helps, and hey, _jet pack_.”

Tim rolls his eyes and imagines the biggest, most ridiculous jet pack he can manage. Jason actually laughs as Tim zooms around the room.

-0-

Tim takes to sticking near Jason. He can’t imagine doing this without someone who can see him, and he’s got a lot more respect for Jason after two weeks in his shoes.

“Why do you think we became ghosts?” Tim asks one night while Jason is studying a case file. He’d sprained his wrist falling from a building two nights before, and is currently sulking about not being allowed out, even if there’s really nothing that Tim could have done to stop him if Jason had decided to go anyway. “I’m going to go ahead and assume that most people don’t, given how surprised you were to see me.”

“Not surprised,” Jason says, flicking at one of the pages in the file. “Not happy, that’s for sure, but not really all that surprised.” He sets the file down and studies Tim’s face. “There’s no guidebook here, baby bird. I can give you what I worked out, and what I think beyond that, but that’s all.”

“I’m all ears,” Tim says, settling onto the couch.

Jason nods. “This life isn’t for everyone,” he says. “B didn’t pick all of us because we had dark hair and light eyes. He needed someone who would keep fighting once they started, somebody who wouldn’t up and quit when the shit hit the fan.” He gestures to himself. “Me, I ran away and got myself beaten and blown up, and even right before I died, I was still trying to save my mom, still trying to get us out of there. You bit it trying to get information from gangbangers about the drug war they’re starting near an elementary school.”

“Bruce picks kids with morals,” Tim says, shrugging. “That’s nothing I didn’t know, Jason.”

“No, listen,” Jason says, turning to face him more fully. “It’s more than morals. Most kids would try to do what they thought was the good thing, the right thing. Robin, though, has to be even more than that. Robin needs to be a good kid, and a strong kid, and a kid who fights until the end, when any other kid would have run away screaming. You get me?”

“I see what you mean, yeah,” Tim replies. “You’re saying that you and I stuck around after because, what, we’re not done fighting?”

Now Jason gives a shrug. “It’s my theory, yeah. We give and give and give until we bleed and then some, but when push comes to shove, the work isn’t done.”

“There’s always another gun runner,” Tim says blankly. “There’s always another mugger or rapist or wife-beater.”

“Hey,” Jason says, sitting up and reaching for Tim, stopping just shy of grabbing through his wrist. “Hey, baby bird, chill out, okay? Take a deep breath, I don’t know, meditate or something-”

“That would help if I were alive,” Tim snaps, standing and spreading his arms. “I’m not, though, am I? I’m dead, and I couldn’t even manage to do that all the way, so I’m just going to be stuck floating around your apartment for the rest of time!” He’s yelling by the time he finishes, floating a foot over Jason’s head.

“Tim,” Jason says, still reaching towards him, but Tim turns and flies through the wall.

-0-

One of the things that Tim has figured out about this whole ghost business is that he now has the ability to teleport.

He’s not sure how or why, and he has no idea of the limitations; he hasn’t tried to visit anyone outside of Gotham. If he closes his eyes and thinks of Dick, though, he’ll open them back up to find himself watching Dick attempting to make pancakes. If he thinks about Steph, he’ll instantly be in her living room, watching soap operas as the afternoon ticks by. Now, he frowns and concentrates on Jason, and suddenly he’s on the top of the Ramiro building, looking down into an alley.

“Babs called me an idiot and threw a book in my general direction,” he says by way of greeting. “I’m assuming you talked to her. Also, if you hurt your wrist again, I don’t want to hear about it.”

Jason nods, grinning. He motions to the dealer below and mimes zipping his lips, and Tim nods back at him.

“Quiet game, got it,” he says. “Sorry I freaked out on you. I…” Tim snorts. “I guess telling you that this isn’t easy is like preaching to the choir.”

A heavy eye-roll and an emphatic nod.

“Thanks for putting up with me,” Tim goes on, and Jason turns a little to blink at him. “Yeah, I know, it’s not like you could really get away if I wanted to follow you around, but…” He shrugs, feeling helpless. “Thanks for not being a jerk about it, I guess.”

Jason stares at him for a minute before holding up a finger. Before Tim can say anything, Jason is swinging down into the alley feet-first, plowing into the dealer and sending him flying. It’s the matter of no more than a minute for Jason to zip-strip the guy and stand up, glaring in Tim’s direction. “You really thought I’d be an ass about it?”

“Didn’t really think about it,” the dealer wheezes from the ground, “but yeah, you kinda got that rep, man.”

“Not talking to you,” Jason says without sparing the man a glance. “I know we didn’t really get along, baby bird, but really?”

Tim shrugs. “You did try to kill me that one time. And that other time.”

Jason winces. “Yeah, well, I claim ‘crazy at the time.’ Seriously, kid, I almost went nuts with nobody to talk to for eight months. We might not have been buddies, but I wouldn’t subject anyone to that shit.”

“I think you might have actually gone nuts,” the dealer informs Jason, struggling into a half-sitting position. “Seriously, you might want to get that imaginary friend of yours checked out. I know a guy-”

Jason aims his gun at the middle of the dealer’s forehead. “If I want your opinion, I’ll beat it out of you, are we clear?”

“Great, Brad,” the dealer mutters, slumping back to the ground. “Not only did you get yourself caught, you managed to get cuffed by the crazy-ass one.”

Tim can’t help his laughter, and from the looks of it, Jason is only just holding back his own. His face only loses the laugh lines when the sound of sirens comes from the mouth of the alley. “Stay down and don’t give the cops any trouble,” Jason instructs. “I’ll be waiting up top, and I will not hesitate to shoot you.”

“Christ, I believe you,” the guy complains. “I’ll go quietly.”

-0-

“I’ve been thinking,” Jason says, narrowing his eyes at the file he’s paging through. “The running theory is that you’re sticking around because you’re not finished working, right?”

“So far,” Tim agrees, leaning over the back of the couch and pointing to a photo in the file. “Something about that reminds me of the Haywell case. Put them side-by-side for a minute.”

Jason shuffles the folders around and glances between them. “Huh. Good eye. Anyway, that’s kind of that I’ve been thinking about. How do you feel about some good old-fashioned eavesdropping on the criminal element?”

Tim grins slowly. “What did you have in mind?”

“This guy,” Jason replies, tapping on another photo. It’s one of the suspects in the Moreson case, a local thug who had probably been the one to shoot both Moreson and Haywell and leave them in alleys. “I can’t get close at night without him spooking, and during the day he only conducts legit business. If you can duck in and find out where he’s hiding his guns, I can take it out.”

“Finally,” Tim says, “something that sounds like fun.”


	3. Chapter 3

Dick is in Jason’s living room when Tim flies in after the raid. Tim’s intel had led to a location, and after a week of planning, stakeouts, and preparations, Jason had hit the warehouse tonight. It’s currently blazing merrily by the piers, and Tim is in a great mood.

He pulls up short when he spots Dick, sitting on the couch easy-as-you-please. Jason is at least fifteen minutes behind him, so Tim closes his eyes and moves to where Jason is swinging towards the loft.

“Dick is in the living room,” Tim reports, floating alongside Jason as he moves. “He didn’t try to hide the fact that he broke in, so I don’t think he’s there to try to bring you in.”

Jason comes to a stop on the roof of an apartment building. “Any idea what he wants?”

Tim shrugs. “It’s not like he know I was there, and he didn’t leave a note for me to read or anything.”

“That’s not a bad idea, actually,” Jason says, tilting his head. “I can suggest it to him if you want.”

Tim snorts. “Do you think he’s going to be stopping by often enough for that to be of any use?”

“Hey,” Jason says, shooting a grapple at the next rooftop, “you never know with Dick.”

The rest of the trip is made in silence, and when Dick tenses at Jason’s entrance, Jason just flips him off and heads for the bathroom. “Ten minutes,” he says, stripping off his shirt and flinging it in the general direction of the hamper. “Tell baby bird what you’re here for. If it’s gonna be something that pisses me off, he can warn me about it while I’m still showering, and I can work out some of my aggression before you start preaching in my general direction.”

Dick blinks as Jason shuts the bathroom door. Tim floats almost lazily, hovering a few feet above Dick’s head in halfhearted circles.

“Uh,” Dick says, looking around. “I’m sorry, but this is – really weird. I don’t even know where to look.” He makes a frustrated noise and runs his hands through his hair. “Mostly I’m just checking in, I guess. I know Jason was involved with that warehouse that mysteriously went up in flames tonight. I’m going to go ahead and assume you’re the one who convinced him to leave the guys responsible for it zip-stripped for the cops, instead of just throwing the baby out with the bathwater, as it were.”

Tim snorts. “There’s some confidence,” he says, knowing Dick can’t hear him. “Actually, he asked me how many guys were inside before we hit the place, Dick. The guys there aren’t the ones responsible. They’re little more than petty thieves for hire, and if Jason is going to kill someone, they’ll have to have done something a little more complex than ‘stand around a bunch of boxes.’”

Dick is looking around like he’s actively straining to hear Tim’s reply. He sighs and slumps a little when, predictably, he doesn’t hear anything. “I hate this,” he says softly.

“Join the club,” Tim agrees, settling on the couch next to Dick. “I mean, Jason’s good company, but I’d like to be able to talk to someone else sometimes.”

“I know you’re probably thinking the same thing,” Dick echoes. “It’s just – I can’t imagine it’s easy for you, being stuck with Jason as the only one who can hear you.”

Tim narrows his eyes. “That’s not what I meant.”

“You guys didn’t get along,” Dick goes on. “I mean, you really hated each other. I keep trying to imagine being in your shoes, wanting so badly to talk to someone, and then finding out the only person around that can hear me is Deathstroke.”

“Okay, that’s going a little too far,” Tim says, floating off of the couch and circling until he’s staring in Dick’s face. “Jason and I are two sides of the same coin, Dick, not a penny and a dollar bill.”

“I just,” Dick sighs.

“If you end that sentence with any version of ‘feel sorry for you,’ I’m going to find a way to strangle you,” Tim snarls, leaning in until his nose would almost be brushing Dick’s. “Don’t. Don’t say it.”

“Am I interrupting?” Jason says from the bathroom door, and Tim whirls to face him, flying back as he does so. Dick simply turns to look at him, looking slightly confused.

“I don’t think so,” Dick says cautiously. “I was just talking to Tim.”

“Tell him I don’t need his pity,” Tim nearly snaps. His heart would be beating in his throat, if it could. “Tell him that you’re way better company than Deathstroke, and I’d appreciate it if he didn’t make the comparison again.”

Jason makes a face at Dick and crosses his arms over his chest. “You compared me to Deathstroke? Thanks a lot, asshole.”

Dick shrugs. “I didn’t really mean it like that,” he tries. Tim pinches his nose and shakes his head.

“I don’t know why he’s here,” he says to Jason. “Mostly, he just talked around how bad he feels that I’m stuck with you.”

“Classy,” Jason snorts. “So, Dick, why did you break into our humble abode? Isn’t it a school night for you?”

Dick frowns. “I just wanted to see how things were going.”

“Going great,” Jason replies, arms still firmly crossed over his chest. “Anything else?”

“I wish I could talk to Tim,” Dick blurts, then colors faintly. “I – not that I’m not talking to you now, Tim, but-”

“Stop before you hurt yourself,” Jason says dryly. “You mean you have something to ask him that you don’t want me to hear.”

Tim snorts. “Just ask me,” he says to Dick’s head. He’s floating a few feet off the floor.

“Ask,” Jason translates.

Dick lets out a breath and nods. “Tim, I don’t want this to come out the wrong way, even though I don’t know if there’s really a right way to ask. You’re not – I know you’re not _okay_ , so that’s not the right question, but – you’re not – doing anything that you wouldn’t? Or anything like that?”

There’s a moment of silence before Dick turns expectantly to Jason, who shrugs. He’s staring at Tim as Tim floats down until he’s hovering just above the coffee table, face-to-face with Dick. “Are you asking me if I’m, what, some sort of ghost criminal?”

“I think he was more asking if I had you doing things that went against your moral code,” Jason says, still looking at Tim. “I’m not sure what sort of control he thinks I have over you. I don’t think he gets how this works.”

It’s strange, Tim notes, whatever it is that he’s feeling. He’d had moments on the street that almost approached this, and he’s heard of white-hot anger and seeing red. This is almost the opposite, though, this cold fire that seems to be seeping through his body and turning him to ice.

“I’m being useful,” he snarls, right into Dick’s face. “I’m stuck here. I can’t go back, and I can’t go on, so I’m making the best of a shitty situation.” He flings a hand in Jason’s direction. “Jason is not _making_ me do anything. He _asked_ if I would help him get some information, and I jumped at the chance to do something.”

“Jason,” Dick says softly, his eyes slightly wide as he stares almost into Tim’s eyes. “What’s-”

“Take a breath, baby bird,” Jason says. Tim glances over, and notices that Jason’s arms are hanging loosely by his sides. It’s almost a ready stance, which would mean more if Jason could actually touch him. “He’s just trying to look out for you-”

“Stop,” Tim snaps. “No, I know what he’s doing. First he didn’t believe that I was here, and now he thinks that I can’t take care of myself. I can’t get hurt, I can’t be seen, I can’t get caught, and yet he still wants me to just sit around.”

Tim clenches his shaking fists and tries to focus on taking a breath, on Jason’s voice as he says something, low and rough.

“I’m just trying to keep an eye out,” Dick says, probably in reply to whatever Jason had said, and that’s when Tim’s control snaps.

“ _You can’t_ ,” he yells, slamming his fists into Dick’s chest. “You can’t help me, so stop trying to interfere!”

Dick makes a whimpering sound and looks down. His hands come up to press against his chest, right where Tim’s wrists are sticking out. “Jason,” he says, and his voice sounds terrible, hoarse and pained. Tim jerks back when Dick looks up again. His skin is paler than Tim has ever seen it, and the blue seems to be draining from his eyes as Tim watches.

“Tim, baby, back off,” Jason says frantically, and suddenly he’s right there, grabbing Dick and pulling him off the couch, away from Tim’s reach. Tim watches in stunned horror as Jason talks Dick through taking deep breaths, rubbing at his shoulders until Dick finally looks like himself again.

“I’m sorry, Timmy,” is the first thing that Dick says when Jason finally moves away, and all Tim can do is sit as near to Dick as he can without not-touching him, wiping away whatever counts as his tears on the hem of his shirt.

-0-

“Do you want to talk about it?” Jason asks as he covers the window again. Alfred had driven right over when Jason had called, and Dick is now safely on his way back to the Manor.

“Not really,” Tim says without looking up. He’s had his head between his knees for the last ten minutes, and he’s too exhausted to move. It’s a little confusing, he thinks; he doesn’t sleep, so how is he supposed to recover?

Jason sits down next to him. “Can you listen to me talking about it?”

That gets Tim to look up. “You know something about this?”

“No,” Jason replies. “I mean, I have an idea, but nothing like that ever happened when I was in your shoes.” He smiles tiredly. “They always did say you were the precocious one.”

Tim snorts. “Emotion,” he guesses. “Strong emotional responses get me closer to the physical plane.” He waves a hand around. “Apparently, _really_ strong emotion lets me drain the life out of someone with my hands.”

“Dick is fine,” Jason says. Tim has the feeling he’ll be repeating that for a while. “He’s more tired than he probably should be, and chances are good that he’ll skip patrol for a night or two to be on the safe side, but he’s fine, baby bird.”

“I could have killed him without even realizing I was doing it,” Tim says, dropping his head back to his knees. “I could have killed him, Jason.”

There’s a moment of silence before Jason sighs. “It’s a good thing you can’t talk to anyone else, because I would not be happy with this getting around, but I wish I could give you a hug right now.”

“I’m wishing that too,” Tim replies. “I don’t – I’m not really a hugger. Not usually.”

“I think tonight calls for hugs,” Jason says decisively, as if he can will it so by wanting it enough. Tim knows that’s not the case; he’s spent enough time trying to touch things on his own. “And shitty movies. I think I saw something called _Man-Thing_ when I was flipping through the channels earlier. Sound like a plan?”

“Let’s do it,” Tim says, shifting until he’s almost leaning on Jason. Jason puts his arm behind Tim on the couch, and it’s the nearest thing to a hug that Tim has had in longer than he cares to think about.

-0-

He can’t actually control it, is the thing.

Tim wants to figure out everything he can about this… ability, for lack of a better term. He doesn’t want to kill anyone, but if he can figure out how to use it in a less deadly manner, he might be able to help with more than just gathering intel.

“You don’t have to,” Jason tries to argue. “Seriously, baby bird, you’re doing great with what you have. We’ve taken out more big names in the past month and a half than I did on my own in the year before that.”

“Yeah,” Tim agrees. “And we can take down more if I can figure out how to actually be backup, instead of floating around uselessly while you get attacked from three sides.”

Jason grimaces. “That was once. And I did fine, remember?”

“Thirteen stitches,” Tim replies. “That’s not _fine_.”

“Picky, picky,” Jason mock-grumbles. “Really, though, baby bird, if you want something to do, we can go spy on Papakitos some more. I’m sure he’ll just keep singing if we keep listening.”

Tim sighs. “Maybe I’ll figure out how to zap one of his cronies while I’m there.”

-0-

Papakitos falls gracelessly, skin paper-white and eyes unseeing. Tim yanks his hands away as soon as the gangster starts to crumple, already spinning around. 

“Jason,” he says hoarsely, and then he’s crouching on the ground, hand shimmering strangely as he waves it in front of Jason’s face. “Jason, come on, time to get up.”

Jason makes a strange groaning sound and curls into himself, one hand pressed tightly to the hole in his chest. His face is nearly as white as Papakitos’. “Tim?”

“Come on, Jason,” Tim says frantically. “Listen to me. You need to call for help, okay? Turn your radio on.”

“Can’t,” Jason says. There’s a weird little smile on his face when he turns it to look up at Tim. “Thought. Thought it wouldn’t hurt so bad this time.” His chest rises and falls slowly, and there’s a wheezing sound in the air. “Company’s better now.”

“Jay,” Tim says, grabbing uselessly for Jason’s shoulder. “Keep your eyes open. Stay with me, okay?”

“Sounds good,” Jason says. settling his head back against the floor. “Staying. With you.”

There’s a gurgling noise as Jason’s chest rises and falls, and then there’s nothing, no movement or sound or anything at all.

-0-

Tim floats.

It’s not like the floating was before; he’s not really above or below or beside anything. He’s not in the Cave or the Watchtower or the loft he had shared with Jason. He’s not anywhere, not really, or at least he doesn’t think he is.

When he’s thinking at all.

He’s mostly afraid, really; he remembers Jason talking about his own experience while he was dead, how he’d been lonely, how he’d nearly gone crazy without someone to talk to. Tim knows that his state of mind at the time of his death wasn’t nearly as healthy as Jason’s had been, and he’s worried about what he’ll be like in a month’s time, or a year’s.

Not that it matters. Not when he can’t talk to anyone.

There’s a sound, and Tim looks around for a moment before realizing that he’d made it. He opens his mouth and the sound repeats, an ugly sort of thing that’s not a laugh or a sob. It’s just Tim and his blackness and his sounds and his worries.

There’s no concept of time that Tim can track, so he has no idea how long it’s been since he checked in on the remains of his family when he finds himself in the Cave. Bruce is hunched over the workstation, completely expressionless as he types. Tim watches him for what seems like hours, but he just keeps working on and on.

There’s a sound on the stairs, and when Tim turns he finds Dick staring at Bruce. He looks awful, with bags under his eyes and a large bruise across the left side of his face. Tim floats nearer, reaching out, but Dick doesn’t react.

He sighs after a minute and turns his head, and Tim follows his gaze. Tim’s Case stands next to Jason’s, and even knowing that the Case existed isn’t enough to prepare Tim for the reality of seeing it. He’s in front of it before he can blink, and he doesn’t hesitate before reaching through the glass to lay his hand against the fabric of his cape. Not being able to feel it beneath his fingers would be much worse if he couldn’t feel the cape flowing over his shoulders as his clothing shifts, falling down and down to the floor.

Tim doesn’t cast a reflection anymore, but he can imagine what he looks like. He wonders what it would look like to Jason if he could see it – Robin in front of his own memorial Case. He’d probably laugh at Tim, crack some sort of joke meant to make Tim feel better. It would probably even work.

He turns to Jason’s Case, looking at the uniform that he’d memorized months before he’d been allowed out on the street. He’s seen it before, so he knows what to expect – except he doesn’t, not really, because Jason’s helmet is on the floor of the Case, resting just beneath the end of the cape.

The Cave fades in and out at the edges of Tim’s vision, and when he blinks and focuses, he’s in the loft, sitting on the couch. He takes a deep breath as he leans forward, putting his elbows on his thighs and letting his head drop.

“I don’t know how to deal with this,” Tim mutters aloud. It’s the first time he’s said anything since – since. It feels good to speak, to get part of the hurt out. “I don’t know what to do, where to go – I can’t handle this on my own.”

“Good thing you don’t have to.”

Tim’s head snaps up instantly, and he shoots to his feet as he focuses on the other side of the loft. Jason is standing in the doorway, hands in his pockets, smiling crookedly at Tim. “Hey.”

“I – what?” Tim closes his eyes tightly and shakes his head, but when he opens them again, Jason is still there. “What are you – Jason?”

Jason taps his fingers against his head. “Think, baby bird. I’m no more finished now than I was the first time around.” He takes a step away from the doorway. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“You’re here,” Tim says unnecessarily. “I – you can see me, you can hear me.”

Jason’s smile widens. “I can do you one better,” he says, floating over until he’s standing in front of Tim. He lifts his hand and reaches out slowly, and when he settles his fingers against Tim’s shoulder-

Against. Not in, not through. Against.

“Hi,” Jason says, and it takes a minute to click, but as soon as it does Tim launches himself at Jason, laughing as Jason catches him in what is probably the best hug that Tim has ever experienced.

“Hi,” Tim whispers back, holding on.


End file.
